Thoughts from the Bottom on Earth Day

First appeared on April 22, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

Anniversaries have a way of creeping up on us like a Russian sniper or unexpected gas. And so you sit, surrounded by the soft clinking of silverware on porcelain, candlelight shimmering off a glass of Merlot as the misses considers her plate of Linguini Alfredo. You toast before turning your attention to a delicious plate of Pickled Herring when a man in an army jacket, Woody Allen glasses and pair of hush puppies made of hemp, stops at your table with the warning that your precious dinner grew up ingesting micro-particles of plastic in the Pacific Ocean.

It may seem overly simplistic to believe the Earth’s problems could stem from something as simple as throwing a Little Debbie wrapper out the window because you can’t risk smudging your well pressed pants on the way to work. After all, your bosses boss is in town and even though you made him enough dough last year to buy a vacation home in Cabo for his second wife, a really nice bungalow just down the street from the one his first wife now owns, everybody still has to look like they just walked off a GQ photo shoot or heads will roll.

So Little Debbie zips out the window and out of sight and a small part of you aches for knowing its wrong, but you find balance in the fact you’re not texting and driving. Besides you don’t have time to think about carbon footprints or the death of future generations, you drew the short straw and have to tell Crazy Bob in accounting he’ll have to put the Hawaiian shirts away for a week since the Big Kahuna is flying in. And normally this would be no big deal except in this case “crazy” isn’t a term of affection.

So Little Debbie flutters away in the morning breeze before falling to rest gently on the double yellow line you just left behind. And as a single solitary ant inches his way towards a surefire glucose induced coma, an eighteen wheeler thunders past sending the wrapper swirling into the air. Debbie tumbles helplessly over the Queen Anne’s Lace and Purple Aster twisting and turning like a Monarch butterfly until falling to the bottom of the ditch where she finds herself in a stream of muddy water snaking from the interstate.

Slowly she winds downstream before plunging into a larger river. On a rippling current wide and deep, Little Debbie swirls through a city where the water grows congested with displaced gasoline residue, a gift from overflowing storm sewers, and various unwanted bi-products generated during the assembly of that 55 inch flat screen your wife surprised you with on Father’s Day. The one you first watched An Inconvenient Truth on.

So she twists and turns and bobs along, crossing state lines and dodging old car tires, and the occasional set of rusted bed springs, until the river grows wider still upon reaching the delta where it gives all it has to the sea. On the ocean your wrapper joins the tide as dolphins chitter with curiosity at Debbie’s faded smile and the occasional sea turtle nibbles at her curly locks.

And after a month or two, Little Debbie finds herself joining a garbage patch wider than 50 football fields, locked in a South Pacific gyre, circling for perpetuity. And there she stays, riding the waves and floating in the sun for years and years and years. An artifact from a busy morning and a relic that will tell future archaeologists what made us tick, the little Debbie wrapper from the N and Out, the one with your fingerprints on it.

Wednesday is Earth Day. Take a moment to do your part by checking out 50 things everyone can do to save the Earth at: http://www.50waystohelp.com/


© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

A Smashing Start to "Next Year"

First appeared on April 11th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

I don’t ask for much. I’d like a good hot dog and at least one of my children to follow directions the first time. I’d also like flushing toilets in Wrigley and the sports world to stop heckling her like she’s the subject of a Comedy Central roast.

I’m not in construction. The only thing I build are sentences and that’s done on a part time basis and somewhat pedestrian level. But I am a sports fan and I know enough to realize when Opening Day rolls around its best to have your ducks in a row. It’s not like the boys in Chicago had a short off-season after all.

So you pack yourself into a car and point it north for a little slice of heaven the outside world knows as Wrigley Field. You do this knowing full well the baseball gods will shine on you even though it is April and April in Chicago can sometimes require great bravery, or at the very least polar survival gear.

But Ernest Shackleton you are not, you are a Cubs fan and you don’t ask for much. You want a cold beer and a warm dog, a spot out of the wind and a toilet that works. The radio is alive with stories of civil wars fought in countries devoid of natural resources and any qualitative reasons for living there. And while you depart with the full understanding your journey is likely to end in heartbreak and misery, you harbor strong faith in the front office, despite their inability to hire a qualified plumber, and besides, this is ‘next year’ and you want to be able to tell your grandchildren you were there.

But an unexplained postponement leaves you flustered because, not unlike Washington, you are left choosing between a woman who hid her emails from the public and a man so elitist he believes everyone in the U.S. should be above accepting a helping hand. Talk about limited options indeed.

The Action 2 News broadcasts shots of construction crews delivering plastic outhouses to Wrigley, which only brings more inspiration to those jeering her. The jokes keep coming faster than Republican presidential candidates and while she may be undeniably stunning and the closest thing the sports world has to historical perfection, she remains incredibly fragile and self-conscious in the face of her multimillion-dollar renovation.

The Action 2 guy says something about the postponement being linked to a malfunction in the bathrooms on Opening Day before making a joke about a goat and you wonder if his hair is real and try imagining Shackleton’s crew using plastic toilets while crossing the Antarctic. Why can’t they just open the doors? You drove two hours and would be happy to just sit and watch the grass grow under the lights; after all games at Wrigley have always been more of an unavoidable distraction anyway.

So ‘Next Year’ is off to a smashing start as you take a twenty dollar cab back to the parking garage you had to move some stocks around and mortgage your house just to use for a couple hours. And as you limp out of town with your NXTYR vanity plate and Ernie Banks bobble head wobbling on the dashboard, you do so realizing ‘pottygate’ has made the Cubs the laughing stock of baseball. And while it’s not an entirely unfamiliar position, it is one they don’t normally assume until the first or second week of June.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

The End of the World as Hoosier Fans Know It

First appeared on March 31, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

According to Prepper Shows USA, the essentials for surviving the end of the world are shelter, water, food and communication. Apparently they don’t know its March, or basketball would have made their list as well. I don’t know about you, but I don’t spend a lot of time prepping for the end of the world. When I was a kid, the end of the world meant nuclear annihilation at the hands of the Soviet Union, but I suppose today the thought of Kentucky going 40-0 carries about the same meaning.

If you’re like me, you’re wondering at what point politicians forgot they work for an electorate, why there’s a Preppers Shows USA to begin with and how in the world Notre Dame lost to Kentucky Saturday night. Notre Dame did everything they needed to do to win. They played together. They played fearlessly for forty minutes. They got scoring from all five positions.

There was also no shortage of examples where smaller players defied the laws of nature. Riding the wings of pure heart and guts far up into the stratosphere, to the point where the outsized Irish found themselves looking down from the roof of the world. A perch that allowed Notre Dame to snatch many a timely rebound. Rebounds that were hovering just beyond the outstretched arms of Kentucky’s freakishly large front line.

In short, Notre Dame did everything they needed to do to win, everything but score once in the last 3 possessions. And then an Aaron Harrison three pointer from twenty-five feet sent the Irish down to a knee, grasping the rope as the judge began his count. But Irish coach Mike Brey called time out, rallied his troops and opened the door for his senior stand out Jerian Grant to bury a shot from South Bend to put his team back up by 2. And just as every person on Earth living outside ‘Big Blue Nation’ seemed ready to celebrate an Irish victory with a poorly executed jig, Notre Dame lost.

So now the Big Blue Train chugs on. On towards the end of the world. Next stop Indianapolis, land of the free and home of the intolerant. A place where lawmakers would have you believe friendly farmhands will stop slopping hogs long enough to greet you with a smile and save you a seat, provided you share the exact same values and religious beliefs as them that is.

And now derailing the Big Blue Train and saving the world from the aforementioned annihilation falls to Bo Ryan. And if there’s one thing to be said for Ryan it’s that he won’t shy away. He won’t back down. He will stand on the tracks as the Big Blue Train bears down on him and chuckle at the thought of his group being overmatched.

But in the end will it be enough? Will Ryan’s fiery glares and eternal scowl, his old school no-nonsense approach to playing the game, share the ball, stop the ball, protect the ball, be enough to counter Kentucky’s athleticism and historic length? Does a team built mostly of in-state kids tackling a traveling team of AAU All Stars stand a chance? Ryan would say yes.

To beat Kentucky you have to protect the ball and make shots and its hard to argue anybody does this better than Wisconsin. And now, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance, Kentucky and Wisconsin will meet Saturday night. And as the young Badgers race out to defend all that is good and proper in college basketball, let the rest of the world lock arms and sing, “On Wisconsin! Fight! Fellows fight, fight, fight! We’ll win this game!”

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

An open letter to IU Fans

First appeared on March 18, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

Dear Hoosier Nation,

If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my Part Time Pretend Sports Columnist hat off for a moment and talk to you one Indiana basketball fan to another. I grew up in a house where Indiana Basketball took center stage. I saw Knight toss the chair and remember the shirt I was wearing when Keith Smart beat Syracuse. I grabbed my socks at the foul line in Junior High School and screamed at the television while Ted Valentine fouled our four best players out of the National Semifinal in 1992 against Duke. I was in the Georgia Dome when we flirted with banner number six and will maintain forever that Calbert Cheaney was the best college basketball player I ever saw.

I was also in the stands two weeks ago when 17,000 booed the Hoosiers during the Iowa game and read with great horror what happened to Tom Crean’s son later that week. We’re better than this. For as long as I can remember, Hoosier Nation has demanded excellence, but there are boundaries.

I understand these boundaries are invisible and thus really hard to see, but Americans still seem steadfastly determined to push them further than ever before. Two weeks ago, Hoosier Nation obliterated them by booing 18 and 19 year old kids over a coach. Booing a group of kids who turned down numerous other schools in order to play for you is counterproductive and just plain dumb.

And, if it’s true some high school students chanted “Tom Crean sucks” when his son took the floor during a Sectional game, we should all stop following sports right now. Cancel the Big Ten Network, box our gear up and ship it off to some needy Third World country like the Central African Republic or Kentucky.

It’s true the actions of a mass of high school students have forever been largely amateurish and entirely unpredictable, but these are presumably the children of Indiana fans. The same sons and daughters who’ve heard their parents cursing Tom Crean in the kitchen, in the car, on the phone and between the pews.

As far as fake nations go, we used to be a standard bearer. Taking our candy striped pants and down home Hoosier values from sea to shining sea to watch our beloved team play. All the while laughing, smiling and remaining gracious in the face of back-handed compliments like “I’ve always said, somebody has to farm.”

Now we risk spiraling into some dark chasm of ill mannered temperament. A freefall destined to bottom out amidst the doldrums of sportsmanship, stranding us in a place inhabited by the worst the sports world can offer (see fans of the Red Sox and Ohio State Football). I’m fairly certain Thomas Paine had never seen an Indiana game when he wrote “These are the times that try men’s souls”. Still, no quote is more fitting for Hoosier Nation at this moment.

If you don’t like Tom Crean, rise up. Rise up and send Fred Glass a sharp-toned email. Rise up and write a letter to your local editor. Rise up and post your scathing thoughts to a message board hiding behind the handle ‘Hoosierdaddy87’. Rise up and shout it out on sports talk radio. Rise up and refuse to go to games.

Whatever you do, leave 18 and 19 year old kids out of the equation. Show the rest of the world what Hoosier Nation is about. Show them we bring a lot to the Sports World Table, including a rich history of tradition, sportsmanship and, above all else, class.

Yours in fandom,

Eric Williams


© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

'Easy way out' no option for the Blue and Gold

First appeared on March 5th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

When two Tennessee girls’ high school teams met recently, each hoped to fulfill their lifelong goals and dreams by losing a game. This unconventional approach would have afforded one an opportunity to avoid a tournament match up with a local national power. A game that would have proven there are in fact three surefire things in life; death, taxes and total obliteration at the hands of Blackman High.

To avoid this fate, fans were treated to a bevvy of intentional turnovers and not-so-believable bricks. In short it was a performance capable of making even the Washington Generals blush.

And while the game should have been a convenient lesson in sportsmanship, it is perhaps an indicator of a larger issue. Between the Internet, Smart Phones, fast food, Twitter, programmable thermostats, plastic grocery bags and the Roomba, American culture has become about embracing the easy way out.

When Paul George destroyed his leg in a Team USA scrimmage in July, the Indiana Pacers could have taken the easy way out. Put David West on the shelf for a year and let Roy Hibbert work on developing his post game while the team floundered through a 20 win season.

Enter Larry Bird. Yes, he of the unfortunate too-short-shorts era, who also taught us about brilliant shot making and never taking the easy way out. It’s only fitting the Legend’s franchise would assume his demeanor. Kick me when I’m down, I’ll just get up and come back for more. And that’s exactly what the Pacers have done all year; come back for more.

Conventional wisdom had the Blue and Gold resigning themselves to mediocrity. Package Hibbert and George Hill for a new team bus and some fresh linens, take your lumps and hope the lottery balls bounce your way. Instead the Pacers have circled the wagons all year finding inspired play from one unlikely source after another. The formula is simple. Forget the place and time, forget the predictions and expectations and just play hard, play together and play with an edge.

In the middle of it all is the winningest coach in franchise history; Frank Vogel. From the start, Vogel has remained steadfast in his faith that this team can win. This despite dozens in the national media opining the solution to all of Indiana’s problems could be most easily found at the end of a Kim Jong Un missile.

But the Pacers are Blue Collar for a reason. Sure they may prove to be a punching bag for Cleveland in the first round, but they’ve at least shown the sports world there are alternatives to the easy way out. A championship may not be in the cards for everyone, so relish the moment instead and be the best you can be wherever you are.

So perhaps the next time some young girl in Tennessee thinks about shooting a lay up that scrapes the ceiling of the gym or throwing a pass to their mom in the stands, maybe they’ll stop and think about the 2015 Indiana Pacers instead. Maybe then they’ll understand there are alternatives to the easy way out.

Meanwhile, we go on plodding through life as our cable bill is automatically deducted from our bank account, which will automatically transfer funds if we’re overdrawn. We gripe about a half hour wait at a restaurant while using their complimentary Wi-Fi to chart a course to a different place to eat, one 45 minutes away with a far less wait. Check-in-Buddy puts our name in as we open a different app, one that shows us traffic times and 27 alternate routes.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

IU and Purdue: Finally this game means something

First appeared on February 18, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

I grew up hating Purdue. And we're not talking your run of the mill spinach tastes like you’re licking the soiled lid of a Styrofoam bait cooler you found on the floor of your grandfather’s barn kind of hate. This was an "I don’t want you asking her out son, her family roots for Purdue" kind of hate. It was a "We’re not stopping the car to help that stranded motorist because God is punishing him for having a Purdue window cling" kind of hate.

But, as with most things, boiled spinach aside, tastes and perspectives change. Today I find myself pulling for the Boilers when they're not playing Indiana; though I haven't found the courage to share this news with my father yet. I imagine his disappointment mirroring the time I told him I didn’t need to take the SAT because I’d decided to become a Rodeo Clown.

Thursday night all bets are off. Thursday night there will be no moonlighting as a Boiler fan. Thursday night Indiana and Purdue will renew their rivalry once again in Bloomington, only this time there will be more than just pride on the line.

For the first time in a long time this game will actually mean something. It will be more than just two mediocre teams fighting to keep their heads above water while dying a slow death in the middle of the Big Ten pack. There is more than just bragging rights or revenge on the line. In short, this is the most important game in the history of the rivalry (or at least since they met in the 1980 NCAA Sweet 16).

It could be said the outcome of Thursday night’s game will alter the course of one of these programs forever. It could also be said blue is the new black and “Indiana General Assembly” is a synonym for out of touch, but those are columns for another time.

There are clear implications riding on Thursday night’s game. For the last 10-15 years the state of Indiana has provided the basketball world with some mega-talent and far too often these players have opted to venture outside her borders to attend school. With both programs struggling for solid footing in the recruiting world, Thursday night could mark an opportunity for Purdue to make a powerful statement to potential recruits.

Both schools also have an opportunity to earn one of the top four seeds in the Big Ten Tournament. Considering expansion has added two new teams to the conference and another round to the tournament, the double-bye the top four seeds are granted is destined to become a much coveted advantage. Beyond this, neither team is a surefire lock for the NCAA Tourney. Thursday night would go a long way in keeping Purdue’s hopes alive, while it could also open another gash in Indiana’s ship, which last we checked was still busy taking on water.

It could be argued the fate of both head coaches hangs in the balance as well. Should Crean get swept by an in-state rival on his way to another season that ends without tournament play, things in Bloomington could get ugly fast. Conversely it would appear Painter is already coaching for his life and a loss Thursday night could force his team into a kind of full blown “win the Big Ten Tournament or else” desperation mode.

So don’t fool yourself, while you won’t see any jackets tossed into the stands or chairs spinning across the floor, this is a huge game. And while Indiana probably won’t offer half-price seats to anyone leading a jackass in a Purdue hat through the turnstiles, don’t fool yourself, this game means everything.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

Indiana and Purdue heading in opposite directions

First appeared on February 6th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

Short people unite! Unite in an effort to reach items from the top shelf in the grocery store without knocking five other things off in the process, unite in the spirit of the young Eddie Gaedels’ and Herve Villechaizes’ everywhere, unite for the common defense of your kingdom full of mushroom shaped houses and half naked blue people.

Unite as the Purdue Boilermakers continue waging their war upon players blessed with inferior size. In a game that has mimicked the NBA by becoming increasingly smaller and more athletic, Purdue is quietly finding success going against the grain. While staying true to his core principles of a strong perimeter defense, Matt Painter has also ripped a page out of yesteryear by fielding a team with Wooden-like size.

Despite some early stumbles, Painter’s bunch seems to have finally embraced the role of bully on the block. Against Indiana especially, AJ Hammons and Isaac Haas looked out of place; almost like a tag team duo of Andre the Giant and Godzilla. Bullying their way to the basket with defenders bouncing off one after the other, the dynamic duo absorbed so much of Indiana’s defensive attention that several other Boilers, the ones who don’t look like Yao Ming stunt doubles, were able to worm their way to the goal with ease.

What Hammons and Haas did to Indiana a week ago was almost inhumane, bordered upon cruel and is illegal in 49 of the 50 states (last we checked the Ned Beatty Bill was still being debated in the Georgia State Senate). The impressive win also seemed to wake a sleeping giant (pun fully intended) as the Boilers have gone on to win three straight, including Wednesday night’s victory over another nationally ranked opponent in Ohio State.

But it all started a week ago by drumming Indiana in a game that kept Purdue’s season alive. It was also a victory Painter likely needed to avoid finding an email in his inbox with the subject line: “Pick up change of address form”. And while Hammons and Haas have anchored the interior, off-season transfer Jon Octeus has been a pleasant surprise as a defender with length and athleticism as well as a point guard who brings an attitude to the floor.

And while the win has injected life into Painter’s team, the opposite can be said for Tom Crean’s Indiana Hoosiers. Losers of 3 out of their last 4, Indiana suddenly finds themselves in a similar position to Purdue a week ago. In fact, it’s almost as if the two have passed each other on an escalator.

Indiana had spent much of their year riding the up escalator, but for some reason have changed their minds and hopped the rail. The Hoosiers knew coming in to the season their lack of size would present challenges. Unfortunately this has never been more apparent than this past week as Purdue manhandled the Hoosiers before Wisconsin flirted with embarrassing them. Things were so bad that, five minutes into the Purdue game, short men everywhere quietly slipped into the restroom to stuff more folded up paper towel into the bottoms of their shoes.

So now Indiana finds themselves fighting to get off the down escalator. Sunday’s date with Michigan suddenly has ‘must win’ written all over it with a road trip to Maryland and home date against Purdue looming on the horizon.
With all eyes on the up escalator, one has to wonder where it leads. It could be the NCAA Tournament, it could be the home house wares section of Kohl’s. The down escalator is a far different story. The down escalator is crowded with empty wallets, angry shoppers and screaming kids. The Down escalator is a comfortable ride to nowhere and remains the one place Tom Crean and Matt Painter can’t afford to be.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams